


Colors

by PervertedSensei



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Blow Jobs, Blow Jobs in Shower, Bottom!Victor Nikiforov, Dirty Talk, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov, Established Relationship, Established Yuri Plisetsky/Otabek Altin, Facials, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, M/M, Major Character Injury, Multiple Orgasms, Post-Canon, Romance, Shower Sex, Top!Katsuki Yuuri, Tragic Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-16
Updated: 2017-02-16
Packaged: 2018-09-24 20:56:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9786746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PervertedSensei/pseuds/PervertedSensei
Summary: Victor may have sustained a career-ending injury, and Yuuri blames himself for taking Victor from the skating world once again. Somehow, Yuuri is convinced, they'll make it through this.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, everyone! I'm so, so sorry that I haven't posted in so long. I was meaning to get the second part of my Volleyball series out, but I just kept getting stuck with it. University started again and I've been dying. I became really inspired to write this fic after hearing the song Colors by Halsey, and after having writer's block for so long, I ran with it. I really hope you like it, and I'll be updating as soon as I can between life and school. Enjoy!

_How did it come to this? How did I let this happen? What were you thinking, Victor?!_  
________________________________________________________________

Yuuri found it impossible not to blame himself. No matter how many times his parents, Minako, even Yurio reassured him it wasn’t his fault, he could never quite convince himself. He _knew_ deep down he was to blame. 

Every passionate skater’s worst fear was a career-ending injury. This wasn’t right, this wasn’t _fair_. And it was all _his_ fault. 

A doctor carrying a clipboard and wearing a stereotypical white coat entered the waiting room. “Mr. Katsuki?” Yuuri sprang from his seat as though he’d been electrocuted. Next to him, Yurio looked up, a quietly worried expression on his face as he gripped Otabek’s hand a little tighter. 

“That’s me!” 

The doctor nodded, bowing his head and gesturing for the small group to follow him. “This way, please.” They walked down several bright white hallways, passing many people, some doctors and nurses, some patients. All around them was an underlying antiseptic smell that made the hairs on the back of Yuuri’s neck stand up. He could hear machines beeping and people talking, carts being pushed and doors opening and closing. The doctor led them to an elevator and pushed the button. When the elevator arrived, Yuuri anxiously stepped in, followed by Yurio and Otabek. They watched the doctor press the button for the fourth floor.

The elevator chimed as the doors slid open to yet another bright white hallway. The three of them followed the doctor to the left, around a corner, and into the second door they came to. Yuuri’s breath caught in his throat, and bitter pain shot through his bone marrow.

Victor was propped in bed, his head laying back against a plain white pillow. His hair looked somewhat disheveled, and his face was wan. He looked as though he had been sweating profusely. His eyes were closed, and dark circles were starting to form under them. A nondescript hospital gown fell loosely around his broad shoulders, showing his long, slender neck and sharp collarbones, as well as electrode patches with wires running from them. His right arm was bandaged and bound in a dark sling. His left arm sported his wide array of needles and monitors.

A strangled sob finally forced it’s way out of Yuuri's throat. “V-Victor!”

The silver-haired man’s eyes fluttered open, looking tired and a little hazy, but otherwise normal. “Yuuri, how are you?” His accent was a little thicker than usual, and his words came slower. 

“W-why are you a-asking h-h-how I am? Victor, I’m s-so s-s-sorry--”

Victor closed his eyes and spoke, cutting his fiancé off. “Yuuri, stop. It’s not your fault.”

How could it be anyone’s fault _but_ his? He had taken off into his jump awkwardly after stepping out of a landing, and when Victor had tried to adjust accordingly as they went into their lift, an unbearable pain had lanced through the larger man’s entire right side, causing him to shout out and crumple under Yuuri.

“So what’s the damage here? How did the surgery go?” Yurio’s heavily accented voice broke the stretching silence, his usually irritated tone shaking just the slightest bit. Victor closed his eyes and turned his head away from the group, towards the window. He already knew what the doctor was about to say.

The doctor, standing next to the door behind Otabek, consulted his clipboard, flipped a page. He didn’t look optimistic. “It was a massive rotator cuff injury, perhaps irreversible. We usually don't see rotator cuff injuries this severe in people so young. We operated as soon as we could, to improve the chances of recovery. Again, only time will be able to tell how successful the surgery was. In any case, that arm should not be moved except when absolutely necessary for at least two weeks. Before you’re discharged, we’ll schedule check ups and MRI scans so that we can best determine when you should begin your physical therapy. We’ll keep a close eye on how quickly and well you mend. But it’s really a waiting game now.” The man’s voice changed from his professional tone to one of sincerity. “I’m very sorry to say, but this may be the end of your skating career, Mr. Nikiforov. I don’t think you’ll be able to skate this year, even if you regain your full range of motion, which is, in reality, unlikely. It would be wise to begin thinking of your retirement.” 

Yuuri saw something die in Victor’s eyes at that moment. Yuuri _felt_ something die inside of him. It was a long moment before Victor’s heavily accented voice rang out again. “Well, nothing is set in stone yet. I bet I’ll heal spectacularly in no time.” 

Yuuri felt his strength slowly leaving him. He stumbled to the side of Victor’s bed and hit his knees, grasping his lover’s hand softly but firmly, and bowing his head. “I’m so sorry, Victor. We’ll get through this. We’ll skate again,” he promised, as hot teardrops fell and rolled off the back of his lover’s hand.

________________________________________________________________

Victor was released from the hospital a day later. Yuuri had followed the doctor’s advice and ran out the night before to buy several button down shirts, for ease of dressing. Victor grimaced and grit his teeth as Yuuri removed his sling gently and slid the short sleeved button down over and up his right arm. Just the task of supporting his own arm in that rigid position without the sling caused him agony. He fought against crying out as Yuuri quickly slipped his left arm into the short sleeve and buttoned the shirt before securing his sling on again.

When he could relax his arm into the sling again, he took a deep breath through his nose and let it out, opening his watery eyes as he did so. Yuuri was watching the emotion and pain flit across his features carefully, with tears glistening in his own eyes. “I’m--” He took another deep breath to steady his shaking voice. “I’m fine, Yuuri, no need to look like that, okay?” He attempted one of his beautiful, heart-stopping smiles, but it felt dull and pained even to himself.

Yuuri blinked his tears back and attempted a watery smile and chuckle in return. “Let’s go home.” Victor stood, and Yuuri helped him shrug one arm into his coat, draping the other side over his injured shoulder before handing him a pair of dark sunglasses. “I would have liked for this to be as private as you wanted it to be. But there’s bound to be reporters out there. I’ll be beside you no matter what. I’m ready when you are.”

Stealing himself, Victor turned abruptly and made his way out of the room almost defiantly, Yuuri scrambling to grab his bag and follow him. While Victor checked himself out at the front desk in the lobby, Yuuri went ahead to pull the car around and perhaps avoid some of the reporters that had gathered around the main entrance of the hospital.

As he made his way back inside to fetch Victor, several reporters began shouting and shoving microphones in his face.

“Mr. Katsuki, Mr. Katsuki! Is Victor Nikiforov really retiring?”

“Is it true that Victor won’t be skating this season?”

“What can you say about the rumors that Mr. Nikiforov will never be able to skate again?”

The black-haired man bowed his head and made a beeline for the door, saying nothing. When he and Victor exited together, they were surrounded by flashing cameras and reporters calling questions out on all sides. At least a dozen cameras were filming them.

“Victor! How are you feeling?”

Victor seemed to slip into his element when faced with the publicity. Although his glasses were dark enough that his eyes couldn’t be seen--something Yuuri had done on purpose to hide how tired his lover looked--the silver haired man cocked his head and gave a large smile, much more convincing than before. “I’m sore, but doing great otherwise, thank you for asking.”

“Mr. Nikiforov, what happened? What is the extent of your injury?”

Victor tossed his head back, silver hair shining in the pale sunlight. “It was just an incident in practice. I’m confident I’ll heal quickly and be back on the ice in no time.”

“Please tell us, does that mean the rumours of your retirement are false?”

“Truthfully, I can’t say quite yet. I do need to take my time to recover properly, I’m sure you understand.”

“Is there any truth in the rumor circulating that your injury has put a hold on your marriage to Yuuri Katsuki?” 

At this, Victor’s smile softened, and he reached out with his good arm to take Yuuri’s hand in his, bringing it to his lips and kissing his engagement ring. “Absolutely none. While I may have met Yuuri through skating, I have no intentions of such a thing coming between our love. I would marry Yuuri even if the world was falling down around us. Although, I think it’s safe to say that I’ll be out of this sling by the time we say our vows.”

Yuuri blushed furiously, smiling nonetheless, and hurried to open Victor’s car door. He offered a steady arm to help his fiancé into the car before circling around to the driver’s side. Once they pulled away from the hospital and were comfortably on their way home, the black-haired man spoke. “I can’t believe you said that. That quote is going to be plastered all over the place by tonight.”

Victor had removed his sunglasses and tucked them in his jacket pocket. A coy smile played at his lips as he glanced at his lover. “I only told the truth. Should I not have?”

Yuuri’s blush deepened. “Well… Well, it’s not like I don’t want you to! But you’re always just so… so…” The silver-haired man leaned over in a slightly awkward position and kissed the younger man on the cheek. “So _Victor_ about it!” Yuuri finished, practically wailing.

“You like that about me though, no?” Victor chuckled.

His black-haired lover scoffed before murmuring, “You know I love everything about you.” He paused for a moment. “I just don’t proclaim it in a ridiculously romantic way to every reporter within earshot so that it can be spread around the world like wildfire.”

At this, Victor attempted mock outrage. “Excuse me? You have, too, Mr. I-Don’t-Know-What-These-Feelings-Are-But-I’ve-Decided-To-Call-Them-Love! On national television, in Japanese, I might add! I didn’t know what you were saying until later, did you even think about that? Your family sat and listened to you confess your love for me, and I sat there babbling about that hideous tie.” Victor paused for a moment, composing himself, as though the memory still brought him intense indignation.

Yuuri’s face flushed once again and he clenched the steering wheel tightly, voice wavering slightly. “You’re one to talk! You kissed me for the first time on live, international television!”

“And you had no complaints,” Victor replied, dropping his voice slightly. He was seizing his lover up now, flashing beautiful blue green bedroom eyes and wetting his lips. He’d been growing increasingly frustrated for several weeks, owing to the fact that he and Yuuri decided not to have sex when they were busy practicing for a routine. They needed to have full range of movement in their bodies to practice properly. They usually decided to limit themselves to foreplay only during intense training regimens.

“Say, Yuuri…” Victor murmured seductively. The black-haired man glanced over at his lover. “When we get home, you'll take care of me, right?”

“O-Of course I will, you need me,” Yuuri stuttered, obviously wary of Victor’s tone.

“You’ll cook dinner?”

“Of course, I was already planning on it. I bought groceries before I picked you up.”

“We can relax and cuddle on the couch?”

“If you want to, yeah,” Yuuri said, sounding sincere but confused.

Victor’s voice dropped lower. “You’ll help me undress and shower?” The older man watched Yuuri swallow nervously.

“I-If you want me to, I will.”

Victor’s eyes narrowed and he purred. “You’ll dry me off sensually and lay me out on the bed, completely naked, before you ravish me with your--”

“We’re home!” Yuuri announced loudly, his cheeks blazing as he parked. He took a deep, shuddering breath to try and calm himself before climbing out of the car to open Victor’s door. After he had helped Victor out of the car, he grabbed their hospital bags, as well as the groceries, and proceeded to hit the fob button until the car beeped, meaning it was locked.

They quickly made their way into the apartment building and the elevator, stepping off on their floor a few minutes later. Yuuri heard Maccachin’s frenzied whining and scratching on the other side of the door as he turned the key in the lock. He opened the door cautiously, hoping to keep Maccachin from getting past him and jumping, possibly hurting Victor.

Sure enough, the first thing the large brown poodle did was flash past Yuuri and jump up, his paws against Victor’s chest, barely missing the arm that rested in his sling. Yuuri panicked, dropping all of the bags he was carrying and screaming, “Sit! _Sit!_ ”

Maccachin listened almost immediately, dropping his paws and sitting right in front of Victor, who was standing and looking somewhat frozen. After a few beats of silence, a tongue clicked from the couch. Maccachin looked questioningly at Victor and Yuuri before trotting over to where Yurio and Otabek sat, lounging on the living room couch.

Yuuri let out a huge sigh before looking worriedly at Victor. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” the older man insisted, shaking his head as though to clear it. 

Otabek stood from the couch to help Yuuri pick up the bags he had dropped, while Yurio remained on the couch, both hands on either side of Macca’s head, scratching his ears. 

Victor shut the apartment door behind them and bent to help pick the bags up as well. Yuuri piped up immediately. “No, no, just go sit down, okay?” 

Huffing slightly, the silver haired man went to sit next to Yurio. Maccachin pulled away from Yurio to rest his head on Victor’s knee, whining slightly. Patting the dog with his good hand, Victor cheerfully said, “I bet you missed me, huh, Macca? I didn’t mean to leave you unexpectedly like that. It won’t happen again, okay, boy?”

“Thank you two for coming over and house sitting on such short notice,” Yuuri called from the kitchen, where he seemed to be depositing groceries. The sink turned on for a moment. He returned to the living room, drying his hands on a dish towel. “Would you two stay for dinner tonight? The least I can do is feed you. I’m making katsudon.”

Otabek met Yurio’s eyes in a silent exchange before the blond replied, “Whatever. Do you need help with dinner, Piggy?”

Yuuri rolled his eyes at the younger boy before turning and going back to the kitchen. “No, thank you.”

An hour later the four men sat down to dinner together. “It looks delicious, Yuuri!” Victor praised, seemingly as excited as he was the first time he ever tried the dish. 

“My katsudon pirozhki was better,” Yurio remarked without venom as he tucked in.

“Thank you for the food,” Otabek said, quietly beginning to eat.

They ate in relative silence, occasionally punctuated by Victor complaining about having to eat with his left hand, as well as the hospital food he had been forced to endure.

“Piggy’s just spoiled you with home cooking all the time,” Yurio insisted. “It’s a good thing you can barely get your food to your face with that hand. Otherwise you’d end up a fat old man in no time.” 

“ _Yuratchka!_ ” Victor cried in mock hurt, his hand on his chest, pretending to be wounded.

Yuuri got up some time later to clear the table and start the dishes, Otabek rising silently to help him. Victor and Yurio retired to the couch, turning the television on. When the dishes were done and Otabek returned to the living room, Yurio shot him a look, stretching and yawning. 

“It’s about time for us to head home, _da_?” Otabek’s gaze softened slightly, the corner of his mouth quirking up as he looked on at his boyfriend. The small blond was sprawled comfortably on the opposite side of the couch as Victor, their legs entangled in a rarely permitted gesture of familiarity and affection as the younger boy scrolled through his social media feed. 

“I’ll get your coat,” Otabek murmured softly, fond smile still in place.

“Thanks, Beka,” the blond replied, his pale cheeks warming with his slight embarrassment.

A few minutes later, Yuuri and Victor were seeing them off at the door, thanking them one last time and promising to see them again soon. Once the door was closed behind them, Yuuri turned to his lover and smiled. “You wanted to cuddle on the couch before showering?”

“First, where did you put my pain medication?” Victor’s facade seemed to drop now that their company was gone, and his face was pained and pinched as he sank back onto the couch, his left hand going to his bandaged shoulder. Maccachin, who had been napping quietly on his bed in the corner, woke with a start and bounded over to Victor, jumping onto the couch to lick at his face and whine.

Yuuri refrained from scolding Maccachin for jumping, as he hadn’t hurt Victor. “It’s in the bathroom. Why didn’t you say something earlier if you were in pain?” Yuuri hurried to the bathroom to retrieve the small orange pill bottle and fill a glass of water. Victor quickly threw the pills back and drank half the glass of water before he answered.

“I don’t want Yurio to worry about me.”

“Victor, you had surgery two days ago! If you were in pain--”

“I’ll be fine in a few minutes. Let's just turn the news on or something, okay?” Yuuri regarded Victor for a moment before moving to the couch. He grabbed the remote and laid down, Victor laying in front of him and snuggling back against him. Maccachin curled up at the end of the couch, and Victor rubbed the poodle’s belly with his foot.

“In other news today, skating legend Victor Nikiforov is out of the hospital after being admitted three days ago for an injury that he sustained during practice. He’s said he’s confident he’ll heal quickly and be back on the ice in no time. As well as assuring fans that this incident won’t take him off the ice for good, he also responded to rumors of his upcoming marriage to Japanese skater Yuuri Katsuki being postponed.” Suddenly, the clip of Victor kissing Yuuri’s hand came on the screen, and his previously spoken words were issuing through their television’s speakers. “‘While I may have met Yuuri through skating, I have no intentions of such a thing coming between our love. I would marry Yuuri even if the world was falling down around us. Although, I think it’s safe to say that I’ll be out of this sling by the time we say our vows.’” 

Yuuri couldn’t help but blush and smile once more at the conviction and sincerity in Victor’s voice. He was struck, as he often was, with overflowing love and affection for the man lying beside him. He reached out to wrap an arm tenderly around Victor’s waist. “I love you,” he whispered against the older man’s ear.

“I love you, too, Yuuri.”

“Also,” he added in a lighter, joking tone, “I told you so. I’m surprised that the triplets haven’t called to squeal about it yet.” The black-haired man chuckled. “Do you wanna shower now and get ready for bed?”

“Hold me a bit longer,” Victor murmured. Yuuri muted the television and snuggled up to his lover, pulling him closer and nuzzling his face into his neck, always careful of his bandaged shoulder. Victor sighed in a sad kind of contentment as Maccachin excused himself from the couch to get a drink from his bowl.

“What’s on your mind?”

It took Victor a while to organize his thoughts into words. “I just feel very… static. Perhaps restless. With this shoulder injury, with how long it will take to see progress, to have to wait to go back to ice. Not knowing if I _can_ go back to the ice. Maybe it would be kinder to my fans to retire? I mean, I retired once before, didn’t I? But I truly don’t want to yet, not now that I get to skate with you. What do I do, Yuuri?”

Yuuri blinked back the tears in his eyes as he listened to what Victor had to say. Waves of self-loathing were washing over him once again as he realized his lover was in this situation because of him. _He_ had been the one to step out of _his_ landing and consequently flub _his_ jump, which was what threw Victor off and caused the injury in the first place. Victor was at a standstill, not only in his career, but also in his personal life now, and it was all Yuuri’s fault.

“Yuuri, stop.” Victor’s voice was suddenly authoritative and commanding. Yuuri blinked in confusion, before realizing he was crying freely. Victor had felt the wetness on his neck and knew Yuuri must be blaming himself. “I know what you’re thinking,” the silver-haired man continued. “And none of this is your fault. It could have happened at any time. Really, it’s probably a sign that I’m getting too old to skate--”

“Victor, the doctor told you that it’s unusual for an individual as young as you to wind up with such a massive cuff tear. It _was_ me. The landing, the j-jump, the way I c-came into the l-lift, the way I f-f-fell on you.” Yuuri was crying openly now, sobbing and sniffing loudly. “It was m-my fault, and I know it. And I’m s-so, _so_ sorry. I’ll never f-forgive myself. But don’t l-lie to try and protect me or m-my f-f-feelings.”

Victor was speechless for a moment. He couldn’t roll over to face the younger man, so he sat up and turned to him, face set in a mixture of disbelief and concern. Grabbing Yuuri’s wrist with his good hand, Victor pulled the smaller man up into a sitting position. Blue green eyes bored deeply into teary brown ones for several breathless seconds before Yuuri was being crushed to Victor’s chest.

“Yuuri, Yuuri, Yuuri,” Victor whispered soothingly into the soft black hair tucked under his chin. He held the smaller man tightly with his good arm until he felt the shaking sobs subside. “You can’t blame yourself for this, okay? Please promise me you won’t. It really isn’t your fault. I don’t blame you, no one blames you, and you shouldn’t blame yourself.” Victor paused, pulling back to look into his fiancé’s eyes again. For a brief moment, he considered what he was going to say next before deciding to say it anyways. “This shoulder is going to be causing me enough pain in the future, I don’t want you to add to that pain by insisting this accident was your fault.”

Yuuri’s eyes were still watery, and he was hiccoughing, but he seemed to have taken Victor’s attempt at comforting words to heart. He rubbed his eyes, wiping his tears away, and gave a weak smile. Shakily, he said, “How about that shower?” Victor smiled in response, squeezing his lover’s hand.

They made their way to the bathroom where Yuuri took his time carefully removing Victor’s sling and button down shirt before helping him into a thinner, more generic sling that the doctor had advised Victor use for showers. His shoulder was still bandaged, the dressing having been changed right before they left the hospital, and therefore couldn’t get very wet. Yuuri knelt and began unbuttoning and unzipping Victor’s jeans before hooking his fingers in the belt loops and tugging them down the older man’s hips. 

Victor wiggled his eyebrows at his lover before saying playfully, “Tsk, tsk, tsk, Yuuri. If you wanted in my pants you should have just asked. I wouldn’t have minded.”

Yuuri’s thoughts flashed back to earlier, when Victor had been teasing him during their car ride home. It was his turn to be a tease. He flashed Victor a possessive look from where he was kneeling in front of him and quipped, “I don’t have to ask for what’s mine. I take it whenever I want.” Just as he had anticipated, Victor’s eyes widened and his cheeks took on a faint pink color.

As though nothing had happened, Yuuri hooked his fingers into the waistband of Victor’s tiny black briefs and pulled them down just as he had the jeans. After helping a semi-aroused Victor step out of his clothes, Yuuri turned and started the water in the shower, checking that it was the right temperature.

He helped Victor step into the shower before quickly stripping his own clothes off and stepping in after him. Victor was half under the warm spray of the shower, carefully trying to avoid getting his bandages wet. 

Yuuri was trying to ignore his growing arousal as his eyes swept over Victor’s naked, wet body. “Get your hair wet, I’ll wash it for you. Watch your shoulder.” Victor proceeded to wet his hair by leaning under the shower head sideways, effectively keeping his bandages dry. Once his hair was dripping, he turned his back to Yuuri and tilted his head back, making it easier for Yuuri to reach, while also keeping soap out of his eyes.

Yuuri squeezed some of Victor’s shampoo into the palm of his hand, enjoying the crisp and musky smell of it that he had come to associate simply with Victor. He worked his fingers into the Russian’s wet, slate grey hair slowly and sensually, massaging Victor’s scalp and working his way all the way out to the ends of his hair. Victor was humming contentedly and making small noises of satisfaction in the back of his throat. 

“Okay… Rinse.” Yuuri was trying to keep his desire out of his voice, but it just ended up sounding low and strained. Victor rinsed his hair the same way he had wet it, washing the white suds out of the now dark slate grey locks.

“Get--” Yuuri’s voice caught in his throat as he watched Victor’s hair drip, rivulets running down his muscular body. “Get wet. Careful of your bandage, though.” 

He turned away to lather Victor’s loofa with his matching body wash, aroused even more by the concentrated scent of Victor filling his nose. It wasn’t quite the same; it was too clean. Victor smelled of his body wash and shampoo, but also of his own spicy kind of musk that was just his skin. When the two scents would come together was when Victor’s unique scent manifested. With a deep breath, Yuuri turned back to face his lover.

He slowly began to wash Victor’s chest and arms, around his bandaged shoulder, his torso. Victor turned for him without prompting and Yuuri began washing his back. The younger man felt his already weak restraint snap as he grazed the top of Victor’s perfectly sculpted ass. Yuuri pressed himself flush against the older man’s back, his arms snaking around his waist and delicate fingers tangling in short silver curls.

“Yuuri!” For whatever reason, Victor seemed surprised that his younger lover lost his control so suddenly. Yuuri’s slender, elegant hand wrapped around Victor’s growing erection and gave him a few experimental pumps. “Y-Yuuri, what are you--”

“Turn around,” Yuuri whispered seductively in his lover’s ear. Without thinking, it seemed, Victor obeyed, turning to face the smaller man. Yuuri promptly hit his knees and leaned forward to take the Russian’s cock into his mouth. 

Victor hissed in pleasure, his left hand tangling itself in Yuuri’s damp hair. Yuuri, meanwhile, was bobbing his head so enthusiastically already that Victor was worried he wouldn’t be able to last at all. The black-haired man began exaggerating the sloppy, wet, sucking sounds that he was making, and Victor thought it was so lewd he might come just from listening to the noises his lover was making.

Yuuri was undulating his tongue skillfully around the older man’s shaft as he bobbed his head languidly. Victor’s knees were beginning to shake. The younger man began stroking what he couldn’t reach of Victor’s cock with his one hand, adding the little twists of his wrists that he knew drove his partner over the edge. With his other hand, he began fondling the Russian’s balls softly, cupping them and squeezing gently. Every sound that Victor made, every moan, every whimper, every shaky, whispered encouragement went straight to the younger man’s cock.

Victor came loudly, just as Yuuri pulled off his cock with a pop, closed his eyes and opened his mouth. Stripes of white come decorated the black-haired man’s face; it was on his outstretched tongue, dripping from his chin, in his hair. He opened his eyes slowly, and Victor wondered if he had ever seen anything so beautiful in his life. Yuuri looked beyond wrecked, his cheeks flushed, his eyes glassy, and to complete the picture, a dripping facial. 

When Yuuri’s tongue darted out to catch some of the come dripping from his cheekbone, Victor felt his heart skip a whole beat. He covered his eyes with his hand to give himself a moment, and when he looked back at Yuuri he almost died. The younger man was gathering stripes of come on his finger and proceeding to lick and suck it off as though it was the best thing he had ever tasted.

“Y-Yuuri!” Victor flushed, covering his face with his hand again.

As though he hadn’t just put on one of the most erotic shows Victor had ever seen--which was saying something--Yuuri stood and calmly said, “Finish washing up while I wash my hair.”

Ten minutes later, when they had both finished washing themselves, Yuuri shut the water off and climbed out, wrapping a towel around his waist and turning to help dry Victor off. They made their way to the bedroom, where Yuuri helped Victor back into his sturdier sling and began preparing for bed.

“Yuuri?”

“Yeah?”

Victor flashed sexy blue green eyes in his fiancé’s direction before continuing. “I didn’t get to take care of you. Won’t you let me?”

Yuuri turned around to look at Victor from where he stood in front of the dresser, picking out pajamas. “You don’t have to take care of me. I did it because I wanted to, not because I expected anything in return.”

“I _want_ to.”

“Victor, you're hurt. You need to worry about your shoulder.”

“I don’t need to do anything with my shoulder for you to fuck me into the mattress.”

Precisely six seconds later, Victor was on his back in their bed, Yuuri hovering over him and teasing his lover’s entrance. After the brief delay caused by having to rummage around in the bedside table for a bottle of lube, Yuuri was scissoring his fingers inside of Victor, who was wondering if it was possible to come again so soon.

The answer was, of course, that Yuuri could do any damn thing he wanted to Victor’s body, even if it seemingly defied nature. Victor had just come for the second time when Yuuri entered him. Much like when they were on the ice, Yuuri ran circles around Victor when it came to stamina and endurance. 

Despite Yuuri being overly cautious of jostling Victor’s shoulder, the biggest problem they encountered was when Victor discovered how difficult it was to try and stroke himself off with his left hand as he got close. Yuuri, of course, assisted him, and moments later Victor was coming for the third time that night, painting his stomach with stripes of pearly white. Only a few minutes later, Yuuri pulled out and began stroking himself furiously, crying Victor’s name as he came, covering his lover’s stomach and chest even more.

“God, Yuuri, I love you so much,” Victor sighed.

“I love you, too,” Yuuri panted as he collapsed next to Victor in bed. He took a moment to catch his breath before kissing Victor’s nose, rolling off of the bed and retrieving his previously discarded towel to clean Victor up with. After he was wiped up, Victor found a relatively comfortable position to sleep in and Yuuri snuggled as closely as he could, a blissfully content smile on his face.

“Good night, Victor.”

“Sweet dreams.”

Yuuri smiled into Victor’s chest. “I don’t need dreams, I have you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading the first chapter! Hope you liked it! Kudos and comments are always, always, ALWAYS appreciated. They make my day. I'll have the second chapter out as soon as I can for you lovelies!


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